


After Dark

by Taeyn



Series: not quite shakespeare [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Riverdale 1x08, The Boyfriend Talk, fluff and banter, spooky cemeteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeyn/pseuds/Taeyn
Summary: Betty moved her thumb to brush the loose curls from his face, Jughead cupped her cheek in his hand.“Betty,” Jughead said softly, “am I your boyfriend?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lusterrdust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/gifts).



> mild spoilers for Riverdale chapter 8 within! :') Also, I always really adored the ‘gothic horror/romance’ theme that was touched-on in chapter 5 (Heart of Darkness), so I think this story ended up being a small call-back to that too. I hope you enjoy! <3!

Through the wrought-iron bars of Thornhill Estate, the Blossom family graveyard looked anything but dead. The setting sun cast shadows of the headstones, thick hedges and crawling vines between. There were roses, thistles with jagged spines, the earth was damp and green. Tentative, Betty reached her hand through the gate, tried to feel for a latch on the other side. If there had ever been one, it had long sealed over with rust. A few more attempts, a few deeper scratches on her palms, and Betty finally pulled back.

It was no good.

Thornhill was locked.

“Need a hand?”

Betty whirled around. The familiar voice was one of the only things in the world she found comforting, but with Thornhill Mansion looming over her every move, there wasn’t much that wouldn’t make her jump.

“...or, more to the point, a ladder?”

Jughead twitched a smile, jerked a nod toward said-ladder tucked beneath his arm.

“What gave it away?” She breathed a laugh, pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“I came as soon as I saw your text,” Jughead said quietly, set down the ladder to hold her close. “I’m so sorry, Betty, I thought…”

Betty was already shaking her head- it wasn’t Jughead’s fault, any more than it was hers.

“I thought Polly would come home too,” she whispered. Her cheek pressed into his bare shoulder, his arms were strong and warm. It took Betty a moment to realise she’d hardly ever seen him wear a singlet, his fleece jacket tied around his waist instead. From the flecks of grit on Jughead’s cheeks, she guessed he and Archie were still lending an extra hand at the construction site.

“I’m not here to change her mind,” Betty murmured, and when Jughead met her gaze, she saw he already knew.

“You’re here for the case,” he said softly. “Every new turn seems to lead back to the Blossoms.”

“This is where it started.” Betty nodded, took a shaky breath. Together, they steadied the wooden ladder against the gate. “Polly’s choice made me realise. Jason thought he didn’t have one. It was something that happened right here, with his family, that made Jason feel like he could _never_ come home. And if we don’t find out what that was...”

She trailed off, inhale catching in her windpipe.

_Polly might be next._

“We will,” Jughead said firmly, and there was something in his voice that Betty recognised. Neither of them would give up. Not on the people they loved.

And never on each other.

“So what _do_ you think of the B-word?” Betty blurted, and Jughead turned in surprise. The sunset was drenching almost everything rouge, and Betty felt the red at her cheeks burn warmer still.

“I-” Jughead’s mouth pulled at the corner. He flinched a glance aside, hooked his hands in his pockets, blinked, cleared his throat, and peered back up at her.

“Depending on the B-word in question… I kind of like it?” he ventured.

In spite of everything, Betty couldn’t help a smile.

“I kind of... really like it… a lot?” Jughead continued, fought to keep himself from smiling in turn. It wasn’t working.

“I think I really like it too,” Betty said quietly, and for the first time in days, she felt one of the knots in her chest unravel. “I’ve… sort of been thinking about it. And… maybe some other words that go with it.”

“A couple of words have crossed my mind,” Jughead admitted, made some indistinct gesture. “Maybe. Possibly. You know, only about as many times as Kafka wrote about surrealistic predicaments and incomprehensible social-bureaucratic powers.”

Betty realised she was laughing, and somehow, Jughead was laughing too.

“And I’d really like to… for us to, uh-” Jughead paused, quirked an eyebrow toward the gate and the ladder. “Wait, the words we’re talking about _are_ ‘breaking-and-entering’, right?”

He stifled a yelp as Betty pretend-tackled him into one of the hedges, both of them laughing as amber leaves fluttered to the ground. Juggie’s beanie came loose on a branch, Betty’s scarf tangled in a clump of stray ivy. Giddy and breathless, Betty moved her thumb to brush the loose curls from his face, Jughead cupped her cheek in his hand.

“Betty,” Jughead said softly, “am I your boyfriend?”

Betty held her breath, her lips grazed over his. She meant to nod, say yes, _anything_ except burst into tears. When all she could do was smile, she knew that was enough. Her fingers coursed through his hair and they were kissing- gently at first- then fiercely, mouths and hands wound together until they were tangled as the sweeping vines, blushed deep and heady as whatever nightshade lay beneath.

_I trust you too. I always have._

All of a sudden Jughead paused, his eyes widening as he leant against the hedge.

“Juggie, what’s wrong?” Betty peered over his shoulder in alarm, only to see more iron bars woven through the ivy. Except this time…

“The latch!” Betty gasped. From somewhere inside the cemetery, the wind made a low rustle through the maple trees. Thornhill Estate had given up one of its secrets after all.

“Somehow I don’t think this is the tradesmans entrance,” Jughead whispered. The hinges scraped and creaked as he pushed against the bars, held the gate so Betty could slip through.

“Maybe the Blossoms forgot about it,” Betty murmured, helping Jughead follow after.

“Wouldn’t be the first thing on the estate to disappear,” Jughead said grimly. The light had faded behind Thornhill Mansion, and the grounds no longer looked lush and promising. Betty’s heart throbbed at the dip of her collarbone.

It looked like the kind of place where plans went wrong.

“The cemetery,” Betty said determinedly, ignoring the prickling chill at her skin. The nightmares of her hometown weren’t created by shadows. They were created by people. Betty took Juggie’s hand and he nodded.

People they were going to stop.

“So, how about a light anecdote to pass the time?” Jughead offered. Their steps crackled hollow down the gravel path. “I could quote an abridged version of The Castle of Otranto? Alternatively, The Mysteries of Udolpho has some truly heartwarming passages. Northanger Abbey? Dracula, perhaps? The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?”

“ _Radices Currere Abyssi_ ,” Betty murmured, the memory stirring in the dark. Jughead shot her a troubled look.

“The Blossom family crest.” Her breath came quicker as they neared Jason’s grave. “It’s marked on all the gates.”

“ _Roots run deep,_ ” Jughead answered slowly in return, and it was Betty’s turn to glance at him. Juggie offered a crooked smile.

“Latin. You know. It’s the new Tumblr.”

Betty reached out her arm, brought their pace to a sudden stop.

“Juggie?” she whispered, but her voice came out strangled and not at all like her own. Jughead moved protectively to her side. “Wasn’t that where they buried Jason?”

Stricken, Jughead’s stare followed hers- the rich, hanging canopy, blood red flowers, obsidian headstone...

In place of a bed of grass and soil, a gaping six-foot hole had been raked from the earth.

“Last minute venue change?” Jughead uttered, the words barely making a sound.

“Juggie,” Betty whispered again, the silence roaring in her ears. “What do you think of the R-word…?”

Jughead tried a laugh, the result more like a husky croak.

“What, you don’t think an evening spent next to a freshly exhumed grave in the middle of the deserted cemetery of one the most powerful and ever-so-slightly questionable families in all of Riverdale is _romantic?”_

His smile drained as they looked up from the ground to the line of trees behind.

And the tall silhouette concealed within.

“The other R-word-” Betty gripped his jacket, they both stumbled backward as the night reeled in. “ _Run._ ”

-


End file.
